


Lost and Found

by Alexei2020



Series: Oneshot collection [17]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha Peter Parker, Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, College Student Peter Parker, Hurt Tony Stark, M/M, Miscommunication, Not Spider-Man: Homecoming Compliant, OOC Tony Stark, Omega Tony Stark, Possessive Steve Rogers, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Protective Peter Parker, Secret Identity, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:02:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28609515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexei2020/pseuds/Alexei2020
Summary: "What can I do, Tony?" Steve asks after Peter wanders over to the bar to get drinks."You can leave?""Come on, Tony. I wanna make it up to you. Please" Tony prides himself with being able to resist those puppy eyes. They're not nearly as effective as Peter's."Are you serious? How exactly are you planning to make it up to me? You left me for dead. Contrary to popular belief, I'm not invincible. In what reality do you think that's something you can ever undo?"Tony crosses his arms, and hopes Peter doesn't give them too much time."I didn't— T'challa was there""Yeah, but you didn't know that. I didn't know that."
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark, past Steve Rogers/Tony Stark - Relationship
Series: Oneshot collection [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1877071
Comments: 14
Kudos: 408





	Lost and Found

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first take on the A/B/O dynamics, so I apologize if everything is a little off. But I had so much fun writing this. I hope you enjoy!  
> Tony is a little out of character, and I apologize in advance, but this is what I think he would act like in this case.

The cut isn’t all that bad, really. Tony could easily have fixed it on his own, yet there’s something primal tugging on his chest at the sight of Peter, focused and calm, cleaning his hand and wrapping it in bandages. 

His fingers are smooth and gentle as they work, so different from Tony’s own way of handling anything. It’s almost impossible to imagine those same hands punching their way through the bad guys roaming the streets of Queens. 

They linger for a while, even after everything is done, tracing patterns around his palm, wrist and fingertips, before Peter pulls back abruptly, like he’s been burned, and kicks his chair back and swivels around to keep working on his project, muttering something about Tony being an idiot.

Tony wants to smack himself in the back of his head for the instinct to pull Peter back and make him keep touching him. The warmth is still vibrating through his skin, a phantom of the prickly feeling of being cared for. 

He takes a deep breath, and is engulfed in the faint smell of apples and dusty books, and leans forward a little to maybe get a more concentrated whiff of it, whatever it is. He wants more. Peter side-eyes him from his desk, quirking an eyebrow. 

Tony’s not exactly sure what’s happening, but he’s suddenly very close to Peter, who’s leaning away from him with something that looks a little like panic. He opens his mouth, inhales, and then clicks it shut, scrambles to his feet and away from Tony, taking that increasingly strong, mouth watering smell with him.

“Uhm. I just remembered, I have a study group in half an hour. I have to go.” He looks at Tony with dark eyes, nostrils flaring, skin paling and then he’s bolting through the door.  _ Huh. _ The smell of apples is still heavy in the air, like a fog, wrapping Tony’s head in cotton, and he wonders, suddenly, when he let himself relax like this around Peter. 

It’s not like him. He’s usually a lot more careful with how he acts, how he presents himself. He’s supposed to be an alpha, after all. Yet, his primal instincts somehow decided that Peter doesn’t count. That Peter should get to see what a pathetic being Tony really is.

* * *

Tony used to pride himself with his independence. Despite being an Omega, he’d been doing well on his own for years. Of course, no one knew he was an omega. He was always careful with scent blockers and suppressants to keep everything under wraps and let the world think of him as an Alpha. 

It made everything a lot easier, being the famous son of Howard Stark, heir to Stark Industries. He learned early on how to act and what was expected of him, and as the years went on, it became second nature to put the mask on and just pretend. 

Until Steve Rogers showed up. 

The prime example of how the perfect Alpha should be, the person Tony’s father was so fond of and compared Tony to throughout his life. 

Tony first met him with all intention of hating the guy, yet his charisma, pristine smile and ocean blue eyes went straight through all the walls he had spent so long building. 

It was nice, having someone be his rock. Standing between him and the dangers he so often stumbled into. Strong arms wrapped around him and whispered praises of how good he was, how perfect he was.

It was a shock, to say the least, when Steve just abandoned him for someone he lost over 70 years earlier. He had grown so used to having him there,  _ his Alpha, _ and he felt so utterly lost and confused when he suddenly stood in his penthouse alone, only the strong scent that was so completely  _ Steve _ left to torture him.

Peter had been like an angel on a mission when Tony approached him to help make Steve come back. Eager and pure and so astonishingly reckless, Tony was sure he was going to have a heart attack at least four times during the battle alone. 

But Peter proved himself (not that he really needed to, mind you). He’d been swinging around, protecting his neighborhood for two years already, and gave both Steve and his precious Omega a run for their money with his quips and unreliable fighting. 

Tony was proud. And he let himself delve into the mystery that was Peter Parker, a 17 year old Beta with a mind to rival his own and so much bravery, he would have stood against the hoard of aliens dropping from the sky without a single hesitating twitch, if he’d had the chance. 

It was a nice distraction, and it helped. It helped a lot. He could come into his workshop to find Peter perched on the ceiling to reach the top shelf in the cabinet where whatever he needed was located, or sprawled out on the floor in his living room, headphones in and singing off key, marking something in a text book. 

Sometimes he would come stumbling out of his heat to find Peter in his kitchen making breakfast, humming to something Friday was playing on the speakers and swaying his hips to the tunes. 

Peter would greet him with a beaming smile and ask how his business trip was, and Tony would wave him off with as much nonchalance as he could muster and try not to panic over the possible lingering of his scent. 

But Peter was a Beta, and he was  _ Peter, _ so maybe it wouldn’t matter either way to him, if Tony was an Alpha or an Omega. 

The thought occurred to him more often than not, but no matter how much he worried his lip, contemplating the pros and cons of coming clean and tell the truth, he couldn’t do it. 

* * *

It’s a little disturbing, the way he seems to calm down whenever Peter is around. It feels a little like coming home, somehow. A distant, yet thick fog clouding his brain when he sits next to him on the couch, watching whatever on the tv, the practically invisible scent of red apples almost overwhelming, and Tony wants to drown in it.

He’s floating around in his workshop when Peter is there with him, content and a little detached from the outside world, as if time stops completely, and he revels in the small touches when they work side by side. 

Peter’s hand on the small of his back, their shoulders pressed together as they study something under the microscope. Half the time Tony doesn’t even know what the hell they’re working on, relying on this young man, still in college, to make sure they don’t blow up the building.

And honestly, Tony should know better. He  _ does  _ know better. Yet, everything inside him is telling him that it doesn’t matter. It’s  _ Peter. _ It’s  _ safe. _

* * *

His home has the slight aura of apples and dusty books mingled with his own scent now, but it’s not overwhelming, it’s not suffocating the way Steve’s essence was in his old apartment. 

It’s not enough, though, when Steve is suddenly standing in his living room one morning. In full Captain America gear, wrinkling his nose and puffing out his chest. 

Tony raises his mug in greeting and raises a well groomed brow, tries his best to hide his hammering heart, and pretends to the best of his ability that the man’s presence isn’t breaking him all over again. Even after three years of coping and forgetting and moving on. 

“Rogers. What can I do for ya?” Steve doesn’t relax his shoulders, his eyes flicker over the room like he’s expecting a threat to show up any time. Tony doesn’t get it. The only other person’s scent that would be here, is Peter, and even to Steve’s enhanced nose that should be pretty bland. 

“Who else is here?” it’s more a demand than a question, his voice deep and rumbling, and he reeks of dominance all over Tony’s living room. 

“Just me. What are you doing here?” He moves over to the couch, almost without even thinking about it, just gravitating towards the safety of apples and books and  _ Peter,  _ where it’s strongest and he can sink into it, let it envelope him and protect him from the aggressive smell across from him.

Steve glances around a little more, sniffing a few times before he lets his shoulders sink an inch or so away from his ears and cautiously step over to the couch Tony isn’t currently occupying.

His nose is still scrunched up in disgust, however, and he doesn’t relax, not even a little bit. Sitting on the edge of the cushion and crossing his arms, uncrossing them and planting his palms on his knees.

If it wasn’t for the intense atmosphere and the increasing dread creeping up Tony’s spine just by being in his presence, he would have laughed. As it is, he takes a loud sip of his coffee and studies the man in front of him, wondering if maybe Peter will show up if he wishes hard enough.

“I wanted to apologize. I didn’t want to leave you behind, Tony. You have to know that. I love you, but I’ve spent the last years thinking everyone from my life was dead already, and having Bucky back, it’s just… I needed to help him. But I need you in my life too. You’re  _ my omega _ .” 

Tony shifts a little, hiding the shiver that threatens to travel down his spine, and rubs his back against the safety of Peter’s fragrance, desperate for the faint comfort they lure out of him. It’s not nearly enough, but there’s not a lot of other options right now. 

“Yeah, see. That’s not how this works. You left. I’m not  _ your  _ anything. I’m my own damn person, and I don’t need anyone to claim me. So if you can just take that awful smell of yours and leave, that would be great.” 

Tony realises a little too late that it’s the wrong thing to say. Steve isn’t a violent guy, unless he has to, but Tony has had enough encounters with his protectiveness to know that he will defend what he thinks belongs to him. 

He’s on his feet in one second flat, looming over Tony with worry and concern and poorly hidden anger swimming across his face. “Who is it?” he says, and Tony won’t let himself be intimidated. He’s stronger than this. He’s Iron Man. He’s a Stark. He inhales deeply and gets to his feet, forcing Steve to take a step back, and locks his eyes on him. 

“I have no idea who you’re referring to. I’m on my own, have been for years now. If you had any hope of getting me back, you’re a little late. Now, leave. Before I force you through the window.”

* * *

Peter comes flying through the open balcony door a few hours after Steve offered a tight lipped smile and a nod before he stalked out, letting his fingers trail along the walls all the way over to the elevator. 

Tony has been trying to clean the strong musky scent away ever since, but obviously not enough for Peter’s sensitive senses, because the second his mask is out of the way, his eyes darken and his jaw clenches shut. 

He’s next to Tony before he’s fully able to take in the man standing by the glass door, fingers twitching, and arms raised as if he wants to touch Tony, but he keeps his hands a few inches away. Tony is tempted to slide closer, let Peter rub his sweet scent all over him to cloud his mind from the memory of earlier.

“Are you okay?” Peter looks like he’s ready to wrap Tony up and never let go, and bolt back out the window to hunt down whoever caused Tony distress, and Tony, in a moment of clarity, can’t help but think it’s a little weird for a Beta to act like this. But then again, Peter is also a mutated being with spider powers, and it’s not like there’s a lot of research or testing done on those. 

“Yeah, m’fine.” He offers his best public smile, which has absolutely no effect whatsoever, and Peter _ finally _ slides his arms around him, tightening his hold and just holds him. Tony can’t help but sink into the warmth, the safety, and writes a mental note to scold himself for his weakness later. 

“What was Captain America doing here, anyway?” Peter’s voice is a little rougher than normal, muffled by Tony’s hair as he speaks into the side of his head. He’s got one hand tracing smooth circles on Tony’s back, the other cradling his neck, letting Tony tuck his nose into his neck.

Apples, books, safety,  _ home. _ It’s all a little too much, his knees threaten to give out and he clings to Peter’s shoulders for support so he doesn’t end up as a puddle on the floor. He breathes slowly, controlled, listens to Peter’s own breathing against his hair, matches the pacing and isn’t at all surprised when it works.

“How’d you know t’was Steve?” He’s suddenly exhausted, slurring his words into the juncture of Peter’s neck, drags in as much of the protectiveness oozing off of him as he can. There’s a vibration traveling up his chest, leaving his mouth as a low purring sound that should be embarrassing.  _ Later, _ he thinks. 

He can feel a rumble leaving Peter too, too low for his ears to pick up on, but with their chests so firmly pressed together it’s impossible to not notice it. 

“I recognized the smell.” 

Tony hums, drags his nose up Peter’s neck, soaking him up.  _ So good. _

“Tony?”  _ shh, don’t talk.  _ He wants to say, but words are hard to produce, so he hums again, and wants to tear away the fabric that’s separating him from Peter’s flawless skin. “Tony, hey. No.” Peter steps back, grips his shoulders to keep him up and away from that delicious heat and Tony whimpers. 

“Tony, look at me.” He pries his eyes open, frowns and tries to remember when he closed them, and is met with a pair of wide, brown orbs, staring at him, looking for something. Something Tony can’t really be bothered to identify. He leans forward, wants to get back into Peter’s arms, but is stubbornly kept in place at arms length.  _ Stupid superhuman strength. _

“Hey, hey. Tony. Focus.” He doesn’t want to. The drowsiness and calm aura is too good to let go. “Tony. Omega. Stop.” 

Tony snaps back into reality in an instant. The authority and power in the voice makes him straighten his back and blink up at the stern face of Peter.  _ That’s new. _ “What?” The fog in his head is still there, clearing slowly, and everything is a little confusing, but he doesn’t dare look away. Peter’s tone still ringing in his ears. 

“Where can I take you? Do you have a special place you can stay?” Tony is clearly still out of it, he has no idea what Peter is talking about. His eyes drift from the pale skin on his face and those strict eyes, down to the well defined chest and shoulders. He has to admit, he did a good job on that suit. Framing Peter’s perfect body. 

He licks his dry lips, imagining Peter’s silky smooth, porcelain skin, glistening with sweat and those pink lips parted in pleasure, and he can feel his boxers getting wet with the thought.

Oh.  _ oh. _

“Uhm, yeah. No, I— I can get there myself. You should leave.” Peter scoffs, like it’s the stupidest thing he’s ever heard. Which — rude. Tony is a certified genius. He doesn’t do  _ stupid _ .

“I’m not leaving you alone until I know you’re safe, idiot. Tell me where to take you.” It’s kind of nice that Peter cares so much. It should bother him, maybe. He’s an independent, grown man. He can take care of himself. He doesn’t need anyone. Especially not Peter, to protect him. Even if it does feel good. Very good. Amazing even. 

He’s going to delve into this later. When he can think clearly. And isn’t dizzy with a surprise heat out of nowhere. He’s not due for one for at least a few weeks. He’s been taking his suppressants too, so this just doesn’t make any sense. Not that he usually loses his mind like this either. 

But then again, he's always been careful to be alone when he's in heat. If he happens to be around someone, it's never an alpha. Come to think of it, Steve's the only alpha to ever experience Tony in heat.

He tells Peter as much, distracting himself from the way he’s clinging to Peter as they swing across the city to Tony’s heat room. (It’s a studio apartment, really, but Tony doesn’t do anything halfway, and if he’s gonna lock himself in for days at a time, he’s gonna have some luxury.)

He doesn’t bother explaining his lie about what he is. Apparently Peter has been doing the exact same thing himself. That can be a conversation for later, too. Right now he would rather know what Peter's skin tastes like after swinging through the sky. 

He wants to know what Peter's skin feels like, sweaty and damp. He wants to drag his fingers through that fluffy mop of chestnut curls that never wants to follow orders. He wants, he wants, he  _ wants— needs. _

Peter puts him down, and Tony hasn't even noticed they're not in the air anymore. There's something soft underneath him and he clings to Peter as if his life depends on it, wants him there.  _ Needs him there _ , with him. On top of him. Inside of him.

But Peter doesn't plan on staying. Prying away Tony's iron grip like a cotton scarf, and stepping out of reach too fast for Tony's hazy brain to keep up. "What do you need?" He asks, Sweet, innocent, yet demanding and stern. Tony wants to know how he does that. Later.

"You" 

"No. Not like this. I'm not doing that to you. You have things to help you through this, right? Where?" Tony sighs and sinks into a mountain made of clouds, eyes drifting shut. He's aching, too empty, too hard, and Peter is right  _ there _ , he needs Peter. Alpha. Knot.  _ Right there _ . He doesn't even need to look. He can smell the arousal, pheromones and apples. 

"In the drawer." He points in a somewhat right direction, and starts tearing his clothes off. He wiggles out of his jeans and completely ruined boxers when he hears Peter rummaging around, his nose is filled with his scent as he steps closer, and his mouth is watering.  _ Just a little closer _ . 

The second Peter's hand is within reach, handing him what looks like everything Tony owns regarding toys and fabric samples with different scents, lube, his personal tablet filled with porn, a variety of voice recordings and pictures and fourteen magazines. 

Tony ignores them all, grabs Peter's arms and hauls him into the bed, twisting and pinning him under his hips. 

He can feel Peter's dick poking at his ass, and he curses himself for not making the suit in two pieces. He fumbles for the emblem on Peter's chest, just a little distracted by how firm he feels under his desperate hands and he grinds down, smearing slick all over Peter's crotch.

In under a second he's bouncing on his back, Peter's fingers around his wrists, pressing him down into the mattress. Eyes blown wide with arousal and teeth bared. He growls low in his chest and Tony shivers.  _ Yes, please. _

But then, somehow, Peter is able to gain some sort of control, and he glares down at where Tony is desperately bucking his hips up to gain some sort of friction. 

"No." The word is uttered with so much authority and self control, and Tony's instincts makes him stop in an instant. 

"We're not doing this. I'm gonna leave now, and you're gonna stay here, take care of your needs and then we can talk when you're able to focus." He doesn't let go of Tony's wrists, doesn't do anything indicating he's about to leave, really. He just glares down at Tony's face, clenching his jaw shut like it takes all the strength he has to not give in. 

Tony's not coherent enough to form words, but offers a weak nod and a pathetic whimper. Peter nods back and sighs, out of frustration or relief, Tony can't tell, not that it really matters, anyway.

Peter gets to his feet, looks like a Greek God looming over Tony where he's sprawled out on his bed, leaking precum and slick all over the place. He drags a hand over his face and shakes it as he turns towards the open window.  _ So that's how we got in _ . 

Tony is ready to beg, really. Offer anything. Whatever Peter may want, just to make him stay. The very noticeable bulge between his legs tells Tony that Peter wants to stay too, but before he's able to open his mouth, he's swinging away in the horizon.

"Stupid fucking heat" Tony mutters and grabs his biggest dildo, shows it right in and hisses at the stretch. 

* * *

The embarrassment is entirely too much for Tony to handle, and he has a very elaborate plan to hide from Peter for as long as possible. 

It works for about a week before he walks straight into him in his workshop.

Peter is standing right behind him when he turns around, and he looks so worried that Tony would actually feel bad for dodging him, if it wasn't for the minor heart attack he's desperately trying to get control of.

"Pete! What are you doing here?" He takes a step back, looking the young man over and crosses his arms. 

"You're avoiding me." In hindsight, Tony should have known that he wouldn't be able to stay away from Peter for long. Especially after the disaster two weeks ago when he lost control to the point where he was willing to let Peter,  _ an Alpha,  _ have his way with him. 

There's certain laws out there, made to protect Omegas in their most vulnerable state, and Tony was willing to make Peter break them for him. There should be laws against Omegas forcing Alphas around too, he thinks, even though most of them are assholes and wouldn't mind the slightest if an Omega in heat threw themselves their way. 

But not Peter. Never Peter. Even when he's met face to face with the thing that usually has Alphas lose their collective shit all together, he manages to stand his ground and make sure Tony is safe. And isn't that something?

"Not avoiding you, Pete. Just has a lot to catch up on. Got a little distracted" he shrugs, and watches as Peter's entire posture changes. He ducks his head and wraps his arms around himself. Suddenly the powerful superhero looks like the kid that broke his mother's favorite vase.  _ What? _

"I'm so sorry, Tony. I didn't mean to. I swear, I don't know what happened. My scent blockers usually take the most of it, but then I came here and I guess it's just an alpha thing or something, but I could smell Captain Rogers and you looked hurt, and I had to help, I didn't mean for it to happen, I swear." 

Tony blinks.  _ What? _

"No, hey. No. It's not your fault." He wraps his arms around him, breaths him in and tucks Peter's face into his neck to calm him down. 

"You didn't do anything wrong, sweetheart. If anything, you're the most amazing alpha I've ever met. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want you to look at me differently." Comes the muffled reply, and then "you smell really nice, by the way. Like honey and watermelons, mixed with motor oil and smoke" 

Tony chuckles. "You smell nice too."

* * *

Something changes, after that. It's not a huge change, but something subtle that Tony can't really point out. 

They still work together in the lab, and watch movies together, and Peter still shows up unannounced just to hang out.

He's still wearing blockers when he's around Tony, though, and when Tony asked him why (going for casual small talk, but really trying to find a way for Peter to leave a more concentrated scent around him — it's a good smell, shut up), Peter shrugged and said that it was very overpowering for a lot of people, and distracting, and it makes him feel bad. 

Just another thing for Tony to note down on his list of everything that makes Peter the perfect specimen.

But still, there's a vague change that hangs in the air now. 

* * *

Tony scratches his jaw, again. A terrible habit he really needs to stop if he wants to come off as cool and collected and not a nervous wreck. 

(He is a nervous wreck, but that's beside the point.)

"Dude, you're gonna claw your skin off, stop that." Oh, and Peter might notice that something's off and get worried, and no one wants that. 

"Did you just call me dude?" Tony should know that trying to distract him wouldn't work, though. All he gets for his efforts is a raised brow and a "so what" expression. Complete with crossed arms and ankles, weight leaning against the kitchen counter as he waits for the coffee to finish and Tony to spill his guts. 

"There's this thing, this weekend. And I wanted to ask if you'd come with me? It's gonna be boring as hell, lots of nosy rich assholes, and I can't guarantee a single honest smile, but there's free alcohol and, y'know. Me." 

Peter snorts and while he's still looking at Tony, eyes filled with amusement, reaches out to take his cup of coffee and switch it with Tony's, pushing the button to start the machine all over again. 

"Is this your way of asking me out on a date?" He takes a sip of the fresh, hot drink, and doesn't even flinch as it undoubtedly burns all the nerves on his tongue. 

"I think that should be going the other way around, but sure." He scratches at his jaw again, shrugs and leans back on the counter opposite of Peter, and dares to look into those whiskey brown eyes.

He wouldn't say it's a mistake, but it certainly makes things happen, because in the time it takes Tony to blink, Peter is crowding his space, boxing him in and smiling at him. All sweet and innocent, making Tony a little weak. 

He leans in, rubs his nose along Tony's cheek, down his jaw and Tony doesn't even think when he cranes his neck, letting the cold tip travel further down, leaving goosebumps spreading from the point of contact all the way down his spine. 

"I'd love to be your date on this boring, rich asshole event, then." He whispers and nuzzles his nose in the junction of Tony's neck. 

Tony's breath catches in his throat in a desperate attempt to suppress a purr, and he can feel Peter's smile against his skin. 

They stay like that for a while, time forgotten in their little bubble as they just breath together and enjoy the intimacy and warmth and Tony can't remember a single time when he felt so content doing absolutely nothing.

They have to make new coffee when Peter eventually pries himself away with a gentle hand caressing Tony's arm and eyes filled with so much fondness and love that Tony wonders if he'll ever be able to make him lose himself to the instincts he's so careful to keep at arm's length. 

He's doing a much better job than Tony, that's for sure. And he's spent the better part of his life doing it. Maybe he can get a lesson or two about how to succeed.  _ From mentor to friend to mentee _ , what a joke. 

* * *

Peter looks like sex on legs when he walks out of the elevator, dressed in a burgundy suit and shiny shoes, hair still soft and curly, bouncing on his head as he walks over to Tony with a smile that'll have the whole world kneeling in front of him. 

"Wow" he says, and gives Tony a thorough once over, eyes beaming with pride like Tony is the one who'd make everyone in their path swoon. 

"I have something for you" is the next thing that comes out of his mouth, and what in this massive universe could Peter possibly offer that'll top the sight of him right now?

Cuff links. 

Cuff links with a barely visible spider web pattern delicately engraved on them. They're beautiful, and Tony's chest swells with the thought of wearing them, something so profound, delicate, a secret hidden in plain sight. 

"Thank you" he breathes, he's not sure he could say anything else or be any louder without bursting. No one has ever given him something like this before. The downside to having everything already, maybe. 

"Do you like them? I know they're not your standard quality or whatever…" he trails off, waving his hand and he looks so nervous suddenly. Like Tony could ever refuse a gift like this. Or any gift from Peter, for that matter. 

"I love them. You didn't have to, though. Help me put them on?" 

* * *

Peter keeps his hand on the small of Tony's back throughout the whole night. But he let's Tony steer them around, avoiding the people that take one look at Peter and wants to devour him on the spot, and making strained small talk with the ones Pepper forces him to interact with.

Peter smiles throughout it all, though. He's wearing scent blockers, but apparently it doesn't really matter, because some of the other Alphas in the room back off after a quick introduction. And the others very politely speak with Peter rather than Tony. 

Tony doesn't mind in the slightest. It's a golden opportunity for Peter to make connections, and Tony can even relax a little through it all. 

The downside, though, is that no one in this room is ever going to think that Tony is an Alpha again. The secret is out, but it doesn't bother him as much as he thought it would. It's not like Peter is doing this on purpose anyway.  _ And,  _ a tiny, irritating voice in his head whispers,  _ Peter is here to take care of you now _ .

He shoves that thought right back where it came from for the time being and tells himself he's spent so long proving himself by now, it's gonna be fine either way. 

Until a certain Captain shows up. 

Tony knows, realistically, that he'd be a fool to think he'd never see the man again. After he was allowed back in the country, he's been staying at the compound with the others, after all. 

But what  _ the fuck _ is he doing at a charity event? 

Looking for Tony, it seems. He makes a beeline through the crowd the second he's spotted, and smiles, full of teeth and wolfish, to Peter before he turns his attention to Tony.  _ Smart move, asshole _ .

Peter subtly steps in front of Tony, reaches out a hand and smiles sweetly back. Offering his most innocent voice, he tells Steve how much of an honor it is to meet him and what a shame it is the first time they met had to be in a fight. 

Tony can hear the gears turning in his head as Steve tries to figure out when they met and what fight it could have been. 

Then he takes Peter's hand and the sound of bones grinding together fills his ears and he watches in silent amusement as realization dawns on him.

He's gritting his teeth through his smile, and it looks like he's trying to squeeze Peter's hand back, but he doesn't even flinch.  _ Ouch _ .

Tony's dick twitches as he witnesses the two men compete over him, on full display, without anyone knowing a thing. 

"So, Captain Rogers, what brings you here tonight?" Peter asks, and retracts his hand, no sign of being hurt in any way, while Steve rubs his knuckles and looks like a lost puppy, and not the powerful rottweiler he showed up as.  _ Take that, douchebag. _

"I came to talk to Tony, actually. May I borrow him from you for a second?" At least he's as polite as ever. Not a surprise. What is a surprise, but really shouldn't be, is how Peter looks over at Tony, checking if it's okay. Someone should write a handbook for Alphas with Peter's behaviour as an example. 

"That's really not my decision to make, Captain."  _ Example one _ . Tony breaks out in an involuntary smile that hurts his cheeks, and squeezes Peter's arm.  _ Don't you dare lose this one _ , that little voice hisses at him, and Tony decides right there that he'll do whatever he can to keep Peter around. 

* * *

"What can I do, Tony?" Steve asks after Peter wanders over to the bar to get drinks. 

"You can leave?" 

"Come on, Tony. I wanna make it up to you. Please" Tony prides himself with being able to resist those puppy eyes. They're not nearly as effective as Peter's. 

"Are you serious? How exactly are you planning to make it up to me? You left me for dead. Contrary to popular belief, I'm not invincible. In what reality do you think that's something you can ever undo?" 

Tony crosses his arms, and hopes Peter doesn't give them too much time. 

"I didn't— T'challa was there" 

"Yeah, but you didn't know that. I didn't know that."

"The team misses you, though. Can you at least come by the compound one day? If not for me, then for them? It's gotta be lonely in that apartment,  _ all alone _ " 

"Oh, don't worry, Captain, I'll keep him company for you" the honeyed voice of Peter states from behind Steve. He bumps his shoulder in his side as he passes and hands Tony a flute of champagne. "Who's staying up there, anyway?" 

Steve inhales sharply, the innocent mask melting away for the briefest second, a classic blink and you'll miss it moment, and not at all missed by Peter, who tilts his head a little, still wearing that pure smile and wide eyes. Tony's dick twitches again.  _ Glorious _ .

"That's not really any of your concern, is it, son?" The Captain America voice that's never met any kind of resilience, gets a raised brow from Peter and a knowing smirk. 

Tony can feel himself growing hard, and he's not above begging for Peter to tear him apart when they get out of here. 

Peter shrugs, like it doesn't really matter to him at all, and turns to Tony, arm finding its way around his waist.  _ Safe,  _ is all his brain can come up with, reduced to a puddle of lust filled goo. 

"Think about it, at least." The pleading eyes and voice doesn't do much, but then he thinks about Wanda, the quiet girl he tried so fiercely to keep safe. Vision, his creation, his  _ baby _ . And they're both tucked away, hiding from the world and nasty rumors, all because of Steve. 

Long, thin fingers tightens around him, reassuringly, and the overwhelming feeling of safety washes over him all over again. Maybe he can take Peter with him, check up on the innocent people dragged into this mess. 

"Maybe we'll stop by soon, see what everyone's up to these days" he looks at Peter when he speaks, doesn't really need to see the disappointment on Steve's face when he realizes that he's not going to get Tony alone anytime soon.

"Good, I think they'll appreciate that. It was nice meeting you, Peter."

* * *

Peter kisses him in the elevator up to Tony's apartment. Hungry, panting and all consuming. Hands shaking as they rip his tie to shreds in a desperate attempt to remove it. Buttons flying as his shirt follows, and Tony has never been so turned on in his life.

Peter's warm mouth leaves a wet trail along his jaw and neck, mouthing on the gland, and a deep growl vibrates through the young man's chest. "Mine" he rumbles, and Tony loses all coherent thoughts as the strong, firm body presses him against the wall. A hand cups him through his pants, pushing a moan out of his throat and Peter purrs, grabs a little firmer at his crotch, teeth scraping along his neck, and it's almost too much.  _ Almost _ , because it's not nearly enough. 

"Pete." He murmurs, not really sure how to produce any other words, and is then interrupted by the  _ ding _ and  _ swoosh _ as they arrive. Peter drags him out the door and down the hall, straight for Tony's bedroom, apparently in just as much of a hurry as Tony is, kicking his shoes off as he walks, and before Tony is able to catch up, he's on his back, Peter straddling him and kissing down his chest. Wiggling his pants down his hips and thighs as he works his lips and tongue down his body. It's heaven. 

"Lube?" He asks, voice husky and rough between kisses and licking Tony's nipples and massaging his balls through his boxers. 

"Yeah, nightstand" 

Peter tugs at the waistband of his boxers as he stands up, and all but commands him to take them off. Tony doesn't hesitate, scrambling to free his aching dick from its confinement. 

A bottle of lube and a condom is thrown on the bed, and Tony frowns at the offending silver packet. But then Peter's mouth wraps around him, no warning, and swallows him down in one go.  _ Holy shit _ .

"Fuck, Pete. You're gonna give me a heart attack" he looks down and sees Peter's eyes blown wide with lust and glinting with mischief, slowly raising his head, while his tongue swirls around the shaft, before he lets go with a pop, and opts to just barely touch the head with the tip of his tongue instead. 

"Better?" The little tease smirks, and Tony halfway regrets everything. He should have known Peter wouldn't just give in like that. 

Tony throws his head back and groans, hears the cap on the bottle click open and then Peter's mouth does something magical that punches a moan out of him.  _ Jesus, where did he learn that? No, don't go there.  _

* * *

Peter keeps sucking him while he stretches him open, one agonizingly slow finger at the time. He brushes against his prostate occasionally, and Tony is a hundred percent sure that Peter knows exactly where it is, and is avoiding it on purpose. 

"Pete. I need you in me, yesterday." Peter snorts, retracts himself completely, making Tony whimper and almost apologizes just to be filled up again. 

He can hear the condom wrapper tear open and makes a mental note to discuss that with Peter later. 

Tony opens his eyes and is met with Peter hovering over him, noses brushing against each other and one arm next to his face. 

His breath is warm against his face and he leans up to capture his lips, wraps his legs around his waist and arms around his shoulder.  _ Please, please fuck me. _

Peter's dick is massive. At least it feels that way. It stings, but the pain is so wonderfully mixed with the pleasure of being stretched open, his body opening up for Peter to fill him up. Peter shudders, thrusts slow and shallow, panting against Tony's mouth. 

"Fuck, Tony. You feel so good." He mumbles and buries his nose in the crook of Tony's neck, inhaling deeply as he settles deep inside him. 

Tony cranes his head, giving Peter a little more space, adjusting to the stretch and trying to relax. Peter's pheromones do a good job of that, though, and before Tony can tell him to start moving, Peter pulls back and slams back in so hard that Tony sees stars.

He leans back, grabs Tony's hips, sweat glistening on his forehead and chest, eyes dark and wild, and then he thrusts back in again, hard and inhumanly fast. The fingers tightening around his hips are sure gonna leave bruises and he's not sure he'll be able to walk for the next month. 

Tony grips his hair with one hand, and his very throbbing and neglected dick with the other, trying to hold on to something, ground himself somehow, but every crushing thrust to his prostate is making his brain white out and he jerks himself relentlessly, biting his lip, completely devoured by everything  _ Peter _ .

He comes with a shout, white ribbons spurting from his aching cock, covering his chest with the sticky fluids.

Peter collapses on top of him just as Tony's brain turns itself back online, still buried deep inside, and His dick swells and locks them together, making Tony moan hoarsely. 

His hips stutter and Peter groans, forehead pressed against Tony's collarbone. And then he laughs.

_ He laughs. _

"Wanna let me in on the joke?" 

Peter shakes his head, chuckles and with his face still hidden in Tony's chest, he fumbles with his hand, locates the older man's cheek and turns his head to the side. He lifts his head and their lips meet in a soft, lazy kiss.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that."

* * *

They don't go upstate to see the avengers. They're busy people. Peter has classes and Spider-Man duties and Tony has his company. 

Peter still spends a lot of time over at the apartment, though, but neither wants to sacrifice that time with another meeting with Steve and co.

They do meet the whole gang in the middle of Manhattan, however. A group of terrorists have decided that taking over Times Square is a good way to conquer the world.

Peter is swinging around picking up tourists and suicidal photographers, and guiding screaming civilians away from the action, while Tony is flying overhead, trying to figure out the best course to take them down with minimal casualties. 

It doesn't take long for the quin jet to drop Natasha, and Clint from the sky, landing in the middle of it all. 

Steve and Barnes arrive shortly after on motorcycles, and then half a dozen dark dressed maniacs are hurled through the sky, wrapped in a red cloud.

It's not a hard fight, by any means. They've been through worse, and it looks like they have everything under control, almost ready to wrap it all up when Tony sees Peter free falling around the corner, snap his head around and disappear again by a quick flick of his wrist. 

The thing is, Tony has learned to understand a lot of Peter's subtle signs as Spider-Man, and he recognizes the spider sense and he knows how reckless Peter can be when faced with danger. 

And if Peter takes off in the opposite direction of the very visible danger he was headed for, it can only mean it's a bigger danger, and Peter should not be going into that himself. No matter what kind of hero he is. 

So Tony takes off after him, and can see him turn around mid air, and scream his name. 

Then everything turns black.

* * *

"Tony!" Someone says, yells. Whispers. Tony's not sure, there's a really annoying ringing in his ears, reducing everything else to blurry noise in the background.  _ What the hell was that? _

He opens his eyes, groans and sees… nothing. Absolutely nothing. Everything is dark.  _ Am I blind? _

"Tony!" 

That sounds familiar. And worried.  _ No no, don't worry, I'm here. I'm okay! _

Something vibrates around him and he's momentarily blinded by a sudden light flooding his vision.  _ Not blind then _ , and a massive weight is lifted from his chest.  _ What? _

"Tony! Oh my God!" A red blur appears out of nowhere, and the sound of metal grinding shrieks around him. 

"There you are. Hey. Are you okay? Do you hurt? Can you hear me?"  _ Peter _ . 

"You smell like apple pies." 

He laughs. It's a wonderful sound. Tony wants to hear it forever.

"Thank God. I was so worried. Don't ever do that to me again." 

* * *

Tony isn't entirely sure how he ends up in the medbay, but when he wakes up, Peter is sitting by his bed, tracing nonsensical patterns on the back of his hand with his thumb and reading a book. 

He has a concussion and is more purple than skin colored, but otherwise he's just the same. No broken bones or internal bleeding. Which is just proof of how good his armour is, really, considering he was blown out of the air by a bomb and somehow ended up under a collapsed building.

He's allowed to leave the medical bed if he stays at the compound for the next three days, and limps around with Peter on a tour.

"You should rest, Tony. You can show me around later." Bullshit. Tony has been sleeping for however long, and he's restless. 

He introduces Peter to Wanda and Nat, who're sitting in the kitchen, drinking tea. 

Peter refuses to let Tony have coffee, but makes him a sandwich and orders him to eat while he discusses Harry Potter with Wanda, one hand resting on Tony's back comfortably. 

They're in the middle of an elaborate debate about some spell when Peter scoots even closer, fingers curling around his waist and a low growl escapes through a tight lipped mouth.

Out of the hall comes Steve, freshly showered, and oozing of territorial authority.

Tony clears his throat and leans into Peter's side. Really not in the mood for this right now.

"Hey, Tony. How're you feeling?" His tone is calm, and eyes filled with worry, as he rests against the wall with his arms crossed. 

"M'fine." He mumbles around a piece of bread. Steve nods in approval and smiles. Tony shivers.

"Good. Hi Peter. Can I talk to you for a second?"  _ Oh. This isn't gonna end well,  _ Tony thinks, but Peter agrees, squeezes Tony's arm and kisses his cheek before he follows Steve out of the room.  _ This is gonna be a disaster. _

* * *

Tony nervously nibs on his sandwich, trying to comfort himself with the fact that Peter is way stronger than Steve, and that Steve isn’t a violent guy. Not that Peter is very violent either, but he’s young, and spends most of his time protecting his neighborhood,  _ his pack _ , as he so nicely put it. 

Steve protects what’s his too, except for Tony, that is. 

Point is, Tony really hopes it doesn’t turn into a territorial fight. This is Steve’s home, after all. 

Natasha and Wanda are still talking beside him, not at all concerned with what’s going on on the other side of the wall. That, or they don’t care. It’s a fifty/fifty chance of getting that right, really, because there’s no way they don’t  _ know _ . 

Before he’s able to dwell too deep in the ladies thoughts on the matter, there’s a loud crash coming from the other room, and just as Tony is about to run in there, Steve comes flying through the wall.

_ Well, that settles the disaster question. _

He locks eyes with Peter through the hole, and his whole body is vibrating with anger. He stalks over to Steve, still lying on the floor, and leans over him, teeth on display as he hisses “Don’t you ever touch me again. And stay the hell away from Tony. He’s not your property.”

And with that he steps over rubble and plaster and takes Tony’s hand before he keeps going. Tony wants to ask. He wants to ask a lot of things.  _ What happened. What did he say. Are you okay. Where are we going.  _ Just to name a few that pops up. 

He doesn’t get to ask any of them, because Peter is pinning him against the wall, devouring his mouth, and Tony forgets how words work. 

“Where’s your room?” he whispers, and rolls his hips against Tony’s thigh. An aura of apples and books and arousal fills his nose, and Peter’s eyes are blown with lust. 

Tony takes his hand and leads the way, fully expecting Peter to take him apart and pound him into the first surface they come in contact with after he locks the door.

That doesn’t happen. 

Peter gently lays a very confused Tony down on the mattress, kisses him slowly as he undresses him, carefully avoids the worst bruises littering his body. His tongue trails along every scar on his body. 

Peter’s soft fingers caresses his skin, touches him everywhere. 

“I’m gonna take such good care of you, Tony.” he murmurs, velvety lips kissing his jaw, neck, but avoiding the scent gland, where Tony wants them the most. And isn’t that a terrifying thought? He  _ wants  _ to belong to Peter. Wants to be his. He wants Peter to take care of him,  _ love him.  _

“Peter. I need you.” 

“Shh. I’ve got you.” 

Tony doesn’t need to tell Peter where the lube is located, doesn’t know how Peter knows where it is. Doesn’t really care. 

Every part of his being is zeroing in on the wet touches to his greedy hole, the tender fingers entering, slowly, lovingly. 

Peter flips Tony over to his side, lays down behind him and wraps his arms around him, keeping him close as he enters him. Kisses his shoulder and this is so different from anything Tony has ever experienced, but he loves it. 

_ So this is what making love is _ , he thinks, laces his fingers with the ones splayed out on his chest, just above the arc reactor. 

“Peter…” He shifts a little, moves the hand that’s not tangled in Peters up and behind him, curling his fingers around a fistful of chestnut hair and guides his lover’s head to where he wants it. 

But Peter doesn’t claim him. He kisses the sensitive spot, and thrusts deep into him. It’s not enough. Tony needs him. Needs to be his. To have Peter by his side. 

“I’m yours, Peter.” he purrs, and tightens his hold in the curls, hoping that he gets it.

“Mine” 

_ Yes, yes. Yours. Only yours.  _ He can feel his orgasm building in the pit of his stomach, and takes Peter’s hand, moves it from his chest and down his abdomen. That, at least, he understands, and quickens his thrusts, hand moving on Tony’s cock in tune with his hips. Breath hot and wet on his neck.  _ Claim me. I’m yours. _

Tony comes with Peter’s name on his lips, followed by the surprised  _ Alpha _ , that falls out of his mouth right after. 

  
Peter’s movements stutter, and he buries himself deep with a low groan. “My Omega” he growls, and sinks his teeth into Tony’s neck.  _ Finally _ .

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, let me know in the comments what you think!
> 
> If you're a little confused about Tony's behaviour and thought process, then...
> 
> Omegas are submissive, and Tony is an omega in denial, slowly letting himself be who he is as the story goes on, which is why he's nothing like the Tony we all know and love in the end here.


End file.
